


drifting

by carrionkid



Category: Marvel (Comics), X-Factor (Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dissociation, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Gore, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm, Shatterstar Straight Up Pulls One Of His Teeth Out. I'm Warning You.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:25:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14694189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkid/pseuds/carrionkid
Summary: i have a lot of headcanons about star + trauma, because with a backstory like that, he has every right to be traumatized and probably is. one of the big ones is that he's not used to being Allowed or safe enough to externalize negative emotions, so he externalizes them in the form of what's basically self harm because it's something about his body that he could control when there was nothing else he could control and because he heals so quickly that no one really notices. this is just almost 3.5k words of shatterstar having a breakdown and ric trying his best to help.--“Star?” He makes his voice as gentle as he can manage, leaning against the door to the bathroom; the wood is cool against the side of his face as he listens for anything.When he’s met with no response, not even movement from the other side of the door, he grows more urgent, “Star. Are you okay? Please, just let me know, even if you can’t talk right now, I just need to know.”If this is even a fraction of what Tabs went through dealing with him, he needs to call her and apologize as soon as he knows Star’s alright.





	drifting

“Star,” Rictor calls out, standing in the ground floor of the X-Factor building, “Star,  _ please  _ tell me you’re here.”

 

If Star isn’t here, at home, Rictor doesn’t have any idea of where to even start looking for him. Ric’s banking on him coming back home; Star doesn’t know his way around much of anywhere else nearby, but that’s never stopped him before. If he isn’t here, Rictor’s wasting valuable time looking through the building but he has to be sure, he has to  _ know. _

 

“Star, I just wanna make sure you’re okay,” he adds, climbing the stairs to the residential portion of the building, “You scared the shit out of me, out of all of us. I turned around and I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

 

He doesn’t bother turning on the lights of the second floor, focused too intently on the golden light creeping out from underneath the bathroom door. There isn’t any sound or movement that Rictor can pick up on, but he’s still kind of winded from running all the way here. Terry offered to fly him and he more than regrets not taking her up on the offer.

 

“Star?” He makes his voice as gentle as he can manage, leaning against the door to the bathroom; the wood is cool against the side of his face as he listens for anything.

 

When he’s met with no response, not even movement from the other side of the door, he grows more urgent, “ _ Star.  _ Are you okay?  _ Please _ , just let me know, even if you can’t talk right now, I just need to  _ know. _ ”

 

If this is even a fraction of what Tabs went through dealing with him, he needs to call her and apologize as soon as he knows Star’s alright. 

 

He pounds on the door with his fist, this is probably escalating the situation but he can’t think of anything better to do, “I swear to fucking god, open this door or I  _ will  _ kick it down.”

 

The door opens, Star peers around it just enough that Rictor can see he’s got blood on his face. Rictor shoves the door open the rest of the way, leaving Star to flinch back against the counter. There’s blood smeared across his shirt like he’s been wiping his hands against it, apparently unsuccessfully since they’re also pretty covered in blood.

 

“Oh my god,” Rictor whispers, “Star, oh  _ god _ .”

 

“It’s okay,” Star speaks softly, not looking at him.

 

“What did you do?” 

 

Star still doesn’t look at him, he’s moved on to biting at his fingers and Rictor would usually tell him to stop but this is a precarious enough of a situation as it is.

 

He probably shouldn’t grab Star, but he can’t stop himself from putting his hands on Star’s shoulders, “Star,  _ what did you do? _ ”

 

“I pulled out one of my incisors.”

 

Now that he’s saying more than two words, it’s clear that he can’t enunciate as well anymore. His accent is thicker than usual but it’s strange because everything always sounds so much sharper when he’s like this. With the missing tooth and the blood in Star’s mouth, it makes the words sound soft and half-formed. Rictor’s eyes flash from the gap where Star’s tooth used to be to the pair of pliers sitting on the blood smeared counter.

 

“What the fuck,” he manages to speak, quiet and breathless.

 

That’s not what Rictor expected. 

 

It’s not what he expected at all. 

 

He can’t quite figure out if it’s better or worse than what he was expecting, he can barely comprehend what’s happening. Ric was so caught up in thinking of what  _ he’d  _ do that he didn’t stop to think of what  _ Star  _ might do. Which is apparently pulling out his own fucking teeth.

 

The reality of the situation is starting to sink in and he shakes Star, almost frantic, “Why would you do that? Star? Why would you do that?”

 

“I wanted it  _ out _ ,” Star says it like it’s actually an explanation.

 

“Why?” Rictor’s definitely panicking more than Star at this point, but he can’t calm himself down, “Why the  _ fuck  _ would you…”

 

“I wanted the other one out too,” Star frowns, “The first tooth was easy. After that, I kept dropping the pliers.”

 

“Of course you did,” Rictor whispers, rubbing Star’s shoulders, “You’re covered in blood.”

 

Star’s tense enough that Rictor can feel it as he keeps kneading his fingers into Star’s skin, “I’m not mad. I was scared, that’s why I was yelling.”

 

Star makes a noise of acknowledgement, letting his shoulders slump.

 

“I just wanna know why, Star,  _ please,  _ I want to understand why.”

 

“It will grow back,” Star offers, “My healing factor repairs bones. I have lost teeth before.”

 

“Star,” he keeps his voice soft and even, “That’s not an answer. I don’t think you want to answer, but I think you have to.”

 

“I did not want them anymore,” Star says, still vague but it’s closer to an answer, “I wanted  _ new  _ ones.”

 

“I don’t understand what that  _ means _ ,” Rictor can feel an all too familiar ache behind his eyes, but this is the worst possible time to start crying, “You know what? You can tell me later. Let’s just get you cleaned up, first.”

 

Star nods, watching him carefully. Rictor lifts him up onto the counter so he can sit on the side of the sink that isn’t covered in blood. Star doesn’t protest; having an almost disconcertingly light boyfriend comes in handy at times like this.

 

He runs the water hot, soaking one of the washcloths before trying to get all the blood off of Star’s hands. It’s easier when it isn’t completely dry yet, Rictor’s found. He’s had to do this too many times, to the point where he almost doesn’t want to leave Star alone. 

 

He’s probably a hypocrite, wanting Star to stop being self-destructive when  _ he  _ can’t even manage that. It fucking hurts seeing Star like this, a great hollow ache in his chest, and he’s too selfish to stop inflicting that same pain on everyone else. He’s tried, god knows how hard he’s tried, but he just can’t stop doing it. Star probably can’t either, but Ric’s still gonna try to get him to stop.

 

Star takes the washcloth from his hands and he realizes he’s just been mindlessly rubbing Star’s fingers over and over. 

 

“Sorry,” Rictor mumbles.

 

Star makes a noise of affirmation as he wipes his hands off. He rinses out the washcloth before washing the blood from his face.

 

“Does it hurt?”

 

Star makes a wavering noise, rising and falling in tone in a way that doesn’t suggest an answer.

 

“ _ Star _ ,” Rictor gives him a severe look, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s nagging, “Let’s check in.”

 

It sounds so stupid whenever he brings it up to anyone, so cheesy and dumb, but it’s something that  _ stuck.  _ It started back in X-Force, when Star was even worse off than he is now. Well. That was what Rictor  _ thought  _ before he came home to Star pulling out his teeth. So it’s back now, back for the first time in years.

 

Star takes Rictor’s hands, holding them tight, “I think it hurts. Or that it will hurt.”

 

“Okay, that’s a good starting place,” Rictor’s voice is soft; he squeezes Star’s hands as tight as he can manage.

 

“I do not feel anything else,” Star answers abruptly.

 

“That’s cheating,” Rictor whispers, “Start small.”

 

“I feel you, your hands,” Star pauses, mouth open enough that Rictor can see him tounging at the new, bloody gap as he thinks, “I am not here, I am drifting.”

 

“Is there anything I can do to help you stop drifting?”

 

“I thought this would help,” Star says, quiet in a way that’s unusual for him, “I was only half successful.”

 

_ How would this have helped?  _

 

It’s what he wants to ask, but it’s not a question Star currently seems equipped to answer, so Rictor settles on, “I’m not pulling your other tooth out, Star.”

 

Star hums, soft and steady,  _ I know that _ ; Rictor knows him well enough that he can kind of understand him when he’s like this _. _

 

“I think getting out of that shirt would help,” Rictor offers.

 

Nobody else seems to notice, so he might just be overthinking it, but it seems like Star gets  _ weird  _ about blood. Which is strange, because he doesn’t seem to have any problem with the violence and carnage that comes with his fighting style. But afterwards, he gets  _ weird _ . Not ‘desperate to clean it off’  _ weird,  _ more like ‘staring at nothing for twenty minutes when he usually needs something to be happening constantly’  _ weird _ .

 

Star nods, letting go of Rictor long enough to pull off the bloodstained shirt and toss it on the floor before taking his hands again. 

 

“Did that help?”

 

Star shrugs.

 

“Well, at least it was something. We’ll figure it out,” Rictor squeezes Star’s hands, “Let’s get out of the bathroom, okay? I’ll clean it up later, or Madrox can just suck it up and get one of his dupes to clean up all the blood.”

 

“I… I do not have to clean the blood?” 

 

“Fuck,” Rictor whispers, “Of course not. You just had a breakdown in the bathroom, I’m not gonna make you clean up your own blood, Star. I would  _ never  _ do that to you.”

 

Star doesn’t respond, doesn’t look convinced, and Rictor’s heart drops.

 

“Have you had to… Uh… Before?”

 

“So no one would know,” Star says, “So no one would see.”

 

Fuck. He definitely owes Tabs more than apology. An entire lifetime of apologies, and that might not even be enough. 

 

He’ll start with apology dinner next time she’s in town and drag Star along, too, so he gets out of the house.

 

But right now, he just needs to focus on Star, focus on helping him in any way possible.

 

“Can I pick you up?”

 

“Yes.” 

 

It’s a bit awkward to manage, but he ends up tucking one arm under Star’s legs, picking him up bridal style. Star loops his arms around Rictor’s neck, burying his forehead against him. Star doesn’t let Rictor pick him up often, even though he’s easily light enough for it to be a regular thing. 

 

Star doesn’t  _ look  _ like he’s that affectionate, at least to anyone who doesn’t know him, but that works out in Rictor’s favor. It’s nice to have something sacred, something secret that nobody else knows the significance of. Like the way Star knocks against him, sporadic impacts because it’s still hard for Star to be soft, to do anything that doesn’t leave bruises, even after all this time, and he needs grounding. 

 

It makes the times like this that much more special, even if he wishes the circumstances were better. They don’t have a TV in their room because that’s just giving Star a reason to never leave the room, so he settles for the upstairs common area. 

 

Rictor stumbles backwards onto the couch; Star rolls off of him, readjusting until he’s tucked against the arm of the couch, curled over, hugging his knees to his chest. It’s like he’s trying to push himself back into his body, Rictor can’t find a better way to describe it even after all these years. Rictor grabs the remote before leaning on Star. 

 

At first, he was worried about hurting Star, but now he doesn’t even have to be asked to press up against Star with all of his weight. Star hums gently as Rictor pushes him closer against the arm of the couch.

 

“What do you wanna watch?”

 

“Singing in the Rain,” Star whispers.

 

Rictor laughs, “Again? That’s, what, three times this week?”

 

The annoyed rumbling noise Star makes is a response in and of itself.

 

“Okay, okay. We’ll watch it again.”

 

Rictor starts the movie before pulling out his cellphone. He sends a text to Madrox, telling him to let everyone else know that Star’s okay and back at home, and no, he doesn’t know why Star just ran away like that.

 

The text he gets back is unexpected, it’s not from Madrox at all.

 

_ M: Shatterstar was on television today. _

_ Ric: what, like, when he ran away? fuck. dont tell me he did smthing stupid _

_ M: No, Shaky, your boyfriend did not do anything to embarrass X-Factor today.  _

_ M: It was a press conference. I’m assuming that’s why he ran off, it was being broadcasted on one of the shop displays we walked past. _

 

It doesn’t explain why Star pulled out one of his teeth, but it does explain why he’s so  _ off  _ right now. 

 

The last time Rictor saw him like this was when they were working out of Val Cooper’s government office for a job. Someone called for him over the PA and he sprinted out of the building before anyone could even react. They found Star three towns over, winded from apparently fucking running all the way there.

 

They’re a fucked up couple, not at all the ‘home video’ type; Ric’s not comfortable enough with himself to be okay with that and Star can’t watch recorded footage of himself without freaking out. Madrox learned that the hard way after a sword may or may not have ended up embedded in the TV.

 

“Monet texted me, she said there was a press conference that was playing when we were walking.”

 

Star makes an uncomfortable noise, buzzed between pursed lips, but Rictor presses it anyway, “Is that why you ran off?”

 

Rictor can feel Star twisting behind him, fingers tangling in his hair. Star’s hair isn’t long enough to braid anymore but Ric’s hair is so he ends up on the receiving end of all of Star’s stress-braiding. He could probably make a job out of it with how good he is at it, but he doesn’t always have the tact for social interaction. He’s got a limit that changes from day to day.

 

Rictor reaches back, tapping on Star’s knees. They’re digging into his back now and it’s really uncomfortable but he wants nothing more than to help Star, even if that apparently means squishing him. Star shifts, letting Rictor sit between his legs, back pressed against Star’s stomach. He’s weighs enough that he doesn’t have to do more than just rest on Star most of the time.

 

Star rests his elbows on Rictor’s shoulders as he continues to braid; he’s bony enough that it’s almost bordering on painful but Ric’s not gonna tell his boyfriend to stop stress-braiding his hair after pulling his own tooth out.

 

“I’ll tell Madrox we won’t do any more press conferences, does that sound good?”

 

“I like being able to choose,” Star says, it’s strange to hear him talk during a movie, he puts up with Rictor rambling because he knows it’s what Ric  _ does _ , “What I say, how I say it, how I present myself. I do not want to  _ see  _ it.”

 

“I can’t guarantee that not seeing our press conferences is gonna be easy,” Rictor drums his fingers against Star’s knees.

 

“Life has never been  _ easy _ .”

 

“I don’t know,” Rictor leans back against Star’s chest, “This is pretty easy.”

 

That’s a lie, but hopefully Star won’t catch it. Every single fucking thing leading up to being able to actually full on cuddle with Star in the common room has been some of the hardest things he’s ever had to do. Even the first few times they’d be sitting close enough that their thighs touched, his heart would be pounding out of his chest.

 

Most of the team means well, but they’re all so stupid and clueless and occasionally assholes without even really meaning it maliciously. Guido’s the only one who’s still outwardly awkward about it but that doesn’t stop Ric from overthinking everything he does even more than usual.

 

But this feels right, feels easy. 

 

It’s what Star needs and that’s more important than anything his dumbass friends might think.

 

“This is not easy for you in the same way that it is easy for me,” Star says, seeing through him like always.

 

He’s weirdly insightful even if he still ignores almost every social grace. Maybe the fact that he didn’t have all of earth’s bullshit drilled into him his entire life is  _ why  _ he’s so insightful.

 

“This is okay, I promise, I’ll tell you if it’s not okay,” Rictor hopes Star would do the same, but he knows he probably wouldn’t.

 

Star has to have the entire recording, including commercials, memorized by now, but he starts it over again after it ends. It’s like he gets stuck in a loop sometimes, but watching Singing in the Rain six times in two weeks is less destructive than him training for six hours and getting all weird and faraway.

 

Ric still wants to know why Star did what he did, but it’s not the time to push it.

 

He shouldn’t let Star stay up all night, but he’d rather not get kicked out of bed because his super strong boyfriend had a nightmare. He wakes up with bruises more often than he’d care to admit. 

 

So they stay on the couch and watch Singing in the Rain over and over until it’s light outside and Madrox, Layla, and Guido stumble home drunk with Monet, Terry, and Rahne looking as sober as they are annoyed.

 

“Glad we got one healthy couple,” Madrox slurs out as Layla glares at him, “Good to have one ‘round.”

 

Ric’s half asleep so he blurts out, “Dunno about that, Star pulled one of his teeth out.”

 

“Shatterstar did  _ what?! _ ” Rahne’s composure cracks by the end of the sentence, growl slipping into her words.

 

“It will  _ grow back _ ,” Star sounds annoyed.

 

Ric elbows him in the leg, “Exactly what I said when I found out, Rahney.”

 

“It was a perfectly reasonable action to take,” Star sounds even more annoyed than before.

 

“You still haven’t given me a  _ good  _ reason. Or any reason at all,” Rictor sits up, twisting to face Star, “But we’ll talk about that later, ‘kay? Not in front of anyone else.”

 

Star nods, not quite looking at Ric. He really didn’t want to put Star on the spot, but they’re in the common room and everyone they know is incredibly nosy, even Monet, no matter how much she denies caring about anything the rest of the team does.

 

“Now get the fuck out of here,” Rictor gestures to the rest of them, “So we can watch Singing in the Rain for the third--”

 

“Fourth.”

 

“For the fourth time tonight.”

 

Guido’s not nearly as subtle when he’s drunk as he thinks he is, he leans over to Madrox, “Y’think that’s some kinda innuendo.”

 

“Oh, fuck off,” Ric groans.

 

“ _ Guido,”  _ Terry hisses, “Cut it  _ out. _ ”

 

“‘M just sayin’.”

 

Terry and Rahne shoo everyone else out of the room; he’ll have to thank them both later. That’s a long list of people he has to thank, but having a list is  _ good.  _ He’s been living his life from list to list for ages. There are more years with lists than there ever were without them.

 

With everyone gone, Star ends up in his lap. He wraps his arms around Star, squeezing him tight. Since Star’s the only one with free hands, he grabs the remote. He doesn’t start the recording playing again, just rubs his fingers over the remote’s buttons as he worries at his lip. The action is awkward, slightly off kilter now that he’s missing a tooth.

 

“My incisors are not sharp.”

 

Rictor almost counters that. Of course Star’s teeth are sharp, they have been for as long as he’s known Star. It’s why Star fucks his fingers up so much when he chews on them. But Star wouldn’t be saying that without a reason, so Ric squeezes him tighter.

 

“Go on,” he keeps his voice gentle.

 

“My incisors are not  _ naturally  _ sharp.”

 

Oh.

 

Fuck.

 

“I bite. It was entertaining,” Star whispers, “Unexpected. Innovative. Needed to up the stakes. Needed to up the ratings.”

 

(Rictor’s seen him bite himself until his arms were bleeding, but it hasn’t been that bad in a long time.)

 

“That’s why you wanted new ones?” Ric rakes his nails across Star’s scalp, his hair is getting longer, almost long enough that he can play with it.

 

Star makes a noise of confirmation.

 

“ _ Okay _ ,” Rictor pauses to kiss the top of Star’s head before continuing, “I love you, Star, but I’m still not pulling your other tooth out. We could talk to a dentist? Pulling teeth out is their job, not your job.”

 

That’s probably never gonna happen. One of the many things Star can’t handle is any kind of medical environment. It’s hard to just get him in the building, even harder to get him to actually trust anyone in a lab coat.

 

Ric will probably come home another day to find Star in the bathroom covered in blood again, but this time he’ll be ready, he really really will be.


End file.
